


A Separate Peace

by MangaFreak15



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Realism, Minor Sexual Content, Time Skips, UraIchi Week 2020, implied human experimentation/weaponization, learning to love yourself, some Howl's Moving Castle elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24424384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangaFreak15/pseuds/MangaFreak15
Summary: There's an odd little shop on the corner of the street that Ichigo usually passes by on the way home. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not. On a good day, the proprietor looks like a bum straight out of an Edo-era textbook; on a bad day, he looks like the wrong end of a dumpster fire. But Ichigo is always welcome in his shop, and the moments he spends there are some of the best memories of his life.(UraIchi Week 2020 - Day 5: A Moment of Peace | Domesticity | Touch | Idiots in Love)
Relationships: Kurosaki Ichigo/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 7
Kudos: 172
Collections: UraIchi Week 2020





	A Separate Peace

**Author's Note:**

> This is like 98% fluff and 2% angst lol. Also it's 4k+ words and I don't know how that happened.
> 
> The scenes are not in chronological order, it jumps back and forth between past and present, but it should be easy to tell which is which. Enjoy!

Ichigo rouses from his sleep at the sound of an amused huff into his ear, a warm hand idly tracing over a bare shoulder. He makes a sleepy noise, not quite ready to face the day yet.

A cold nose presses into the back of his neck, its owner laughing quietly. Ichigo slurs something that might constitute a question if he wasn’t only half-awake. He hears an answer, but doesn’t quite comprehend it.

Kisuke nips at his ear and presses tiny little kisses all down his neck and over the curve of his exposed cheek. Ichigo giggles involuntarily at the ticklish sensation. He reaches out and attempts a half-hearted swipe at his partner, mumbling, “Stop that, I’m trying to sleep.”

“But I’m bored. And hungry. You wouldn’t let me starve, would you?” Kisuke purrs, his hand trailing down to caress the soft skin of Ichigo’s belly.

Ichigo blinks his eyes open, catching sight of the smirk on the blonde’s face. “You’re hungry? Or you mean, you’re _hungry.”_

“What do you think?” His partner licks at the junction between his neck and shoulder, then bites at it gently, dragging his teeth lightly over the skin. At the same time, his hand drops down low to the stirring flesh below Ichigo’s waist. He can feel something nudge hopefully against the swell of his ass from behind.

“Pervert,” he gasps, as Kisuke’s hand wraps around him. “L-last night wasn’t—hnn—enough for you?”

He can feel Kisuke hide a sly smile against his naked shoulder. “That was last night. This is today,” he hums, rolling them over so that Ichigo is flat on his back and Kisuke is settling between his spread thighs. “Are you going to tell me you don’t want this?” He drags the curl of his hand, slick with oil, up and down Ichigo’s cock, making him fully hard.

Ichigo gives up and bucks into his grip. “No, don’t stop,” he hisses through gritted teeth. “I’ll kill you if you do.”

The blonde chortles at the baseless threat, and complies. They don’t get much done in the next few hours.

* * *

The first time Ichigo notices the little shop, he is running away from his fangirls. Not the cute, sweet-as-pie, couldn’t-hurt-a-fly kind like Inoue, but the aggressive ones, the ones who don’t know know the meaning of ‘stop.’ He should probably look into filing a restraining order against some of them. He’d tried to be kind, but that avenue went up in smoke when he realized that somehow they’d broken into his apartment and made off with his underwear. His underwear, for god’s sake!

He knows that no matter which building he ran into, they’d eventually find him, but right now, something is better than nothing.

Ichigo sees the shop in front of him, made of worn and weathered wood with real sliding screen doors, a faded sign hanging over the doorway proclaiming the business as ‘Urahara Shouten.’ He’ll take it.

It’s just a simple matter of running headfirst into the shop and talking to the first person he sees. In the heat of the moment, Ichigo doesn’t even register the shopkeeper’s odd appearance as he dashes right up to the man and begs, “Hide me!”

To his credit, the shopkeeper doesn’t even blink as he waves Ichigo through the dark-blue curtain flap that separates the business portion from the living quarters. Ichigo gratefully finds a dark corner of the room to huddle in, trying to keep his harsh breathing as quiet as possible. He listens in trepidation as loud voices make themselves known on the other side of the wall.

“Hey, did you see a really good-looking guy come in here?” Oh gods, that’s Higuchi, the president of his fanclub. Look up 'persistent' in any dictionary and her picture would be there.

The low hum of a man’s voice (it must belong to the shopkeeper, there’s no one else it could be) rings out, casual and lighthearted, “I’m afraid not, miss. Could you describe him to me?”

“He’s tall! And strong! He’s got really bright orange hair, you can’t miss him!” someone else chimes.

“An orange-haired man, you say?” Ichigo tenses up hard. Is the shopkeeper going to rat him out after all? “I do believe that I saw him turn the corner that way, towards the pier.”

“Oh, he won’t get away this time! Come on, girls!” Higuchi’s voice barks, and the group leaves the shop to go on whatever merry goose chase the man just sent them on. Ichigo breathes a sigh of relief.

When he’s absolutely sure that they’re gone, he peeks through the curtain flap, and only finds the shopkeeper humming to himself as he mans the counter. He steps out, getting the man’s attention.

“Thank you so much,” Ichigo says, bowing to the man. “My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

The shopkeeper waves him off. “No need, it was my pleasure to help you.”

Ichigo frowns a little at that, because every other place he’s been to either kicks him out or asks him for some form of repayment. “Are you sure? You saved me from certain doom, there must be some way I can pay you back,” he presses.

The shopkeeper looks at him with an indulgent smile, opening up a plain white folding fan to hide the lower half of his face. “Well, if you insist… would you like to buy some candy? I am running a business. The name’s Urahara Kisuke, by the way.”

Ichigo glances around the shop, noticing all the different kinds of sweets for sale. Yuzu would love these. He takes his time poking around—Chappy pez dispensers for Rukia, a 12-count box of chocolates for Karin, fruity gummies for Yuzu, and a pack of strawberry-flavored jelly candies for himself. He drops his intended purchases on the counter and waits for the man to ring him up.

“Your total is 2694 yen,” Urahara says. Ichigo fishes out a few bills and drops them into the man’s waiting hand.

“Keep the change, Urahara-san.” Ichigo takes the handle of the paper bag containing the goods, but hesitates just before he walks out the door. He turns back to the shopkeeper and asks, “Uh, if it’s not too much trouble, can I come here again? If I need a quiet place to study.”

“Why not use the library?” Urahara looks genuinely curious.

Ichigo blushes, embarrassed, his free hand coming up to scrub through unruly orange locks. “I’m kind of banned from there,” he admits, shoulders hunched in a little as if he’s ashamed. He almost holds his breath, hoping that the man will say yes.

An amused expression crosses Urahara’s face. “By all means, feel free to return. I won’t stop you,” he says, gesturing around with his fan.

The orange-haired man’s shoulders come down a notch. “Thank you.” He walks out of the store with his purchase in hand, feeling more light-hearted than before.

* * *

Kisuke stumbles out of the bedroom at half past nine, disheveled, with the top of his jinbei hanging off one shoulder. He stifles a yawn as he wanders into the kitchen.

And then he stops dead, because a terribly wonderful sight awaits him.

Ichigo, in an apron.

And nothing else.

Singing to himself as he cooks.

Oh, Kisuke is _wide awake_ now. He sidles up behind his partner and, feeling mischievous, boldly cops a feel.

Ichigo's so used to his ways that he doesn't even jump like he used to, just greets him with a casual good morning and doesn't stop what he's doing.

Kisuke hides his pout against the bare skin of Ichigo's back. Sometimes he misses the Ichigo that would startle at every lewd touch and blush all the way down to his chest. That Ichigo had been so fun to tease.

He feels better when Ichigo turns and pecks him on the top of his head. He hooks his chin over his partner's shoulder and asks, "What are you making?"

"Rolled omelets, grilled pacific saury, umeboshi, and miso soup. The rice and fish are already done, so help yourself."

"I think I'll wait till you're finished," Kisuke says, trailing his fingers down the side of Ichigo's ribs. The younger man smacks his wandering hands away and warns him not to distract him lest he burn the food. Kisuke sulks his way over to the low table.

Breakfast is a simple affair, just the two of them eating together without Tessai, Jinta, or Ururu around. It's quiet, peaceful, and domestic, everything that Kisuke hadn't known he wanted until Ichigo charged headfirst into his life and refused to leave. He can never be grateful enough for the light, the love, the joy and laughter that Ichigo brought with him, chasing away the shadows of his past with a single-minded determination unlike anything Kisuke had ever seen, truly living up to his name as the First Protector. Because of Ichigo, he now lives a fairly idyllic life. It’s one that he greatly enjoys.

"What are you thinking about?" Ichigo asks, eyeing him suspiciously over his bowl of rice.

"You," Kisuke replies cheerfully.

Ichigo turns faintly pink at his honesty. Huh, maybe he should do this more often. "Sap," the orange-haired man grumbles without any real heat behind it, stuffing a piece of fish into his mouth.

"You've ruined me, take responsibility," Kisuke teases, taking a sip of his miso soup.

Ichigo snorts so hard that he almost chokes on his rice. He takes several gulps of his tea to wash it down. _"I've_ ruined you?" he sputters, leaning forward and giving Kisuke an eyeful of his chest behind the pink apron. "Look who's talking!"

The blonde blinks innocently at him. "But Ichigo, I'm just a humble shopkeeper." 

"If you're humble, then I'm the Prime Minister of Japan," Ichigo laughs. He takes Kisuke's hand and pulls it up to lay a kiss across his knuckles. "You know that as long as I'm with you, nothing else matters."

"Except Yuzu-san and Karin-san."

"Okay, _yes,_ but can you just let me have my moment for once," Ichigo huffs, rolling his eyes.

Kisuke chuckles, and leans over the table to kiss him properly, murmuring, "No promises."

* * *

Over the next few months, Urahara Shouten becomes Ichigo’s new favorite haunt. His friends and family have noticed that he’s become happier recently, less tired, less stressed. Rukia tries to pry, of course, but Ichigo doesn’t breathe a word. That’s _his_ spot now. He wants to keep it to himself for as long as he can (and he hasn’t missed the fact that Urahara, the shopkeeper, seems to also prefer peace and quiet over the chaotic din of the city).

Strangely enough, two days after his first visit to the shop, his fanclub had all but disbanded. Higuchi and her groupies had seemingly been caught with illegal drugs in their possession and had been summarily expelled from Karakura University. Three girls had been reported as stalkers, with enough evidence for the crimes to be charged as misdemeanors and all three are required to serve time in prison.

Ichigo is greatly relieved that they will no longer be bothering him, suspicious about the timing because he’s been dodging those fangirls for _years,_ and just a tiny bit upset that their lives have been destroyed. But he puts the matter out of his mind. What’s done is done.

Four months to the day Ichigo had first met Urahara, he hurries to the shop as usual. Only to skid to a halt on the street corner, eyes wide with disbelief.

The shop is gone.

The space is an empty lot, packed dirt with a few weeds springing up here and there. There’s no sign of Urahara Shouten, not even the slightest speck of wood dust or any forgotten candies. It’s like the shop had never existed in the first place.

Ichigo had just been here yesterday. Buildings don’t just _vanish_ into thin air. What the hell is going on?

He goes next door to the toy store, Shun & Juu’s Handicrafts. A dark-haired woman with glasses and her hair tied up in a neat bun is arranging products at the register counter. She looks up as the bell over the door jingles.

“Welcome, how may I assist you?” she says in the perfect customer service voice. Her flower-shaped name tag reads **_Ise Nanao, Senior Supervisor._ **

“Hey, uh, I just had a question. Do you know what happened to the candy shop next door? I was there yesterday and now it’s gone,” Ichigo inquires.

Ise looks at him strangely. “I think you might have the wrong location, sir. The lot to our left has been empty for several years. And the store that used to be there wasn’t a candy shop, it was a jewelry store that served as a front for an illegal black market scam that the police busted seven years ago,” she explains.

Ichigo feels like an entire bucket of ice water has just been upended over his head. “Oh, uh, thanks. Sorry to bother you,” he mutters, hastily ducking out the door before he can do something embarrassing in public like breakdown for no reason.

He walks into the barren lot, feeling lost. _Where are you?_ he thinks desperately, clutching the thick black strap of his messenger bag, filled with his school notebooks. _Where did you go?_

His quiet place is gone, and he doesn’t know if it’s coming back.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Ichigo asks, pawing impatiently at the strip of cloth tied over his eyes. Kisuke gently tugs him along, careful not to let him trip or stumble over any obstacles in his path.

“It’s a secret~”

“Fine, then are we almost there? I don’t like not being able to see.”

“But you trust me, don’t you? I won’t let you fall,” Kisuke hums. He’d been planning this surprise for quite a while, of course he’s not going to blurt it out now. He’d had to pull a _lot_ of strings for this to happen. He even made sure to take the least populated route to get to their destination, so there would be less chances of Ichigo bumping into people while walking.

Ichigo’s hand tightens in his grasp. “Of course I trust you,” he says softly.

Kisuke smiles even though his partner can’t currently see it. “Then trust that I’ll get us there safely.”

Ichigo grumbles a bit, but doesn’t complain again.

Ten minutes later, Kisuke slows down near a large stone building, decorated with colorful tapestries. An enormous plaza with multiple fountains, blossoming trees, and wooden benches here and there sits in front of the building, a wide brick path lined with red ropes stretching through the plaza all the way up to the building’s majestic wooden double doors.

“You can take off the blindfold now,” he tells Ichigo.

The orange-haired man unties the knot securing the cloth and whips it off, blinking rapidly to get used to seeing again. His eyes light up when he recognizes where they are. “You brought me to the theater?” he asks excitedly.

Kisuke holds up two tickets between his fingers. “Even better: I got us front row seats to Karakura’s first ever showing of _The Merchant of Venice.”_

Ichigo throws his arms around the blonde, grinning so widely that it’s a wonder that his cheeks don’t hurt. “Kisuke, seriously, I love you for this,” he says. “I definitely forgive you for keeping this a secret from me.” Kisuke is infinitely pleased by the kisses he receives as his reward. He pats his partner on the head.

“Happy anniversary, Ichigo.”

* * *

It takes two months for the shop to reappear on the corner. Ichigo all but slams the door open when he sees it, striding angrily into the shop’s interior. He falters a little when he sees that there is a huge, muscular man with cornrows standing at the counter instead of the scruffy blonde that he’s come to expect.

“Ah, you must be Ichigo-dono,” the man rumbles, his handlebar mustache quivering. “My apologies, but Tenchou is currently indisposed and will not be able to meet with you today.”

“Oh really?” Ichigo asks darkly. “You aren’t just saying that so I’ll go away, are you?”

“Not at all. Tenchou is in no shape to have visitors and must rest for today.” Ichigo scowls when he realizes that the man is completely unfazed by his hostile tone.

“Is he okay?” he finally questions.

The big man hesitates a second too long before he answers, “He’s—”

Ichigo roughly pushes past him and ducks through the curtain flaps, ignoring the man’s alarmed shout, “No, Ichigo-dono, you must not see him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to see me, but _I_ want to see _him!”_ Ichigo retorts hotly, too wound up to feel embarrassed about the words coming out of his mouth. “It’s been two months! I want some answers, damn it!” He stomps the last few steps to the doors that he knows lead to Urahara’s bedroom.

“Ichigo-dono, _no—!”_

The orange-haired man throws the door open, entering with Urahara’s name on his lips—and abruptly freezes in the doorway.

Oh.

This is…

This is why the man had tried to stop him.

He watches in horror as the _Thing_ trapped inside an orange cubic barrier slams itself up against one of the walls, screeching something awful, clawing frantically at its prison and leaving inky, oily smears on the barrier. Golden feathers dripping in black ichor cover its arms, its legs, its whole body including its head, only leaving its face untouched: _Urahara Kisuke’s face,_ distorted with feral rage, inhuman hissing sounds slipping out between its pointed teeth.

The big man sighs behind Ichigo. “He didn’t want you to see him like this,” he says, clapping a meaty hand on Ichigo’s shoulder to tug him away.

Ichigo doesn’t move. His feet feel rooted to the floor. “What’s—” he swallows loudly, his throat suddenly feeling very dry, “—what’s happening to him?”

The man gazes solemnly at the Thing. “I think it would be best if you wait for him to tell you himself.”

The Thing suddenly whirls around, teeth bared ferociously, several golden feathers scattering over the floor, and Ichigo wants to vomit when he sees bloody patches underneath the missing feathers like someone took a torch to its wings and lit it on fire—

Its narrow silver eyes meet his. Abruptly, it stops hissing. In fact, it seems to violently recoil back in shame and disgust, its entire body tensing up with self-loathing.

Ichigo knows immediately that it’s Urahara in control now, not whatever rabid primordial instinct had taken over before. He boldly takes another step into the room, shrugging off the big man’s hand. “Let me into the barrier,” he demands, craning his head to look back at Urahara’s assistant over his shoulder.

The big man vehemently shoots down his request, “It is too dangerous, Ichigo-dono. He will be fine by tomorrow."

Ichigo fully turns around, bowing deeply to the shocked man. “Let me in. _Please.”_

The man looks helplessly between Ichigo and his boss curled up into a ball of shame on the floor, and lets Ichigo through with a resigned sigh.

Ichigo slowly approaches the feathered lump of guilt that’s still leaking black ichor everywhere. He stops just outside of Urahara’s range and speaks, “Urahara-san. I know it’s you.”

**_“Don’t look at me,”_ ** Urahara moans, shaking. More feathers fall off, littering the floor by Ichigo’s feet. **_“Don’t look at me. Don’t look at me.”_ **

Ichigo grabs what he assumes is Urahara’s arm and pries it away from his face. “You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried,” he snaps, bending down to stare right into Urahara’s wide, confused, disbelieving gray eyes. “Look, asshole, would it kill you to just tell me if you’re going to disappear somewhere next time?”

“I-I—you’re not—aren’t you afraid of me?” Urahara asks, surprised.

“Of the animal instinct that possessed you earlier, maybe. But of you? Never,” Ichigo snorts. “You’re a silly, kind, calm, and weird candy store owner. You own twelve pairs of the same exact clothing because you’re too lazy to change into anything else. Your best friend is a neighborhood stray. You use your fan to hide your face when you’re feeling embarrassed or shy. You hid me from my rabid fangirls without asking any questions even though I was a stranger. You have a tendency to go without food or sleep when you’re neck deep into your newest project. You also can’t cook worth a damn, so if someone’s not around to take care of you, you’ll keep working until you pass out. You help me with my studies for fun. You actually like Shakespeare. And at the end of the day, you put the needs of others above yourself. So tell me, why would I be afraid of someone like that?”

Urahara is still staring at him like Ichigo just broke all the laws of the universe. Which, maybe he did considering he’s still here and hasn’t gone screaming for the hills at the first opportunity.

Then he lets out a nervous chuckle, his feathers shaking, which devolves into a full-bodied belly laugh that echoes right out of his throat. Ichigo turns his head and gives the big man a thumbs up, who, after a shocked few seconds, returns the gesture.

When Urahara pauses to catch his breath, he uncurls from his ball and finally looks back at Ichigo with a hint of mirth in his eyes. “Thank you, Kurosaki-san,” he says warmly. His feathers begin to fall off in giant clumps, his form shrinking in size before Ichigo’s very eyes. Soon enough, the blonde is back in his regular form, surrounded by piles of all his dirty feathers. His skin is a little gray still, his hair knotted and matted with ash, patches of dried blood and burn marks all over. Seeing that the danger has passed, the big man releases the barrier around them.

Ichigo suddenly realizes that the shopkeeper is naked as the day he was born and he yells, “Put some clothes on, you pervert!”

Urahara grins impishly. “Oh? You don’t like seeing me like this?” he purrs, blatantly gesturing over his bare body.

Ichigo’s blush increases tenfold and he yelps loudly, “No!” Then he turns around and flees, Urahara’s laughter ringing in his ears.

* * *

“Kisuke.”

The shopkeeper looks up from the papers he’s reviewing when his partner enters the room, shifting nervously on his feet. “Yes, Ichigo?”

"Will you come with me for a sec? I have something to give you."

Kisuke looks puzzled. "You can just give it to me here—?"

"Not here," Ichigo insists, shaking his head. "It wouldn't be appropriate." At Kisuke's interested leer, he quickly adds, "Not like that, you pervert!"

“Oh, alright. I’ll see what you have in store for me today,” the blond shopkeeper replies gamely, shuffling his papers to the side of his desk for a second review later. He gets up from his chair and follows Ichigo out of the shop.

Surprisingly the orange-haired man turns in the direction of the pier. What could he possibly want to give Kisuke there?

It’s almost evening, the sky awash in the warm colors of sunset. The light of the sinking sun catches on Ichigo’s hair, lighting it up like spun copper. Kisuke reaches out to run his fingers through it, smiling innocently when Ichigo quirks an eyebrow at him. He links their hands together, relishing in the warmth when Ichigo leans into him.

They come to a stop on the top of the hill that overlooks the harbor. White daffodils cluster together around a single old magnolia tree, its branches hanging over their heads, thick with blossoming flowers.

Ichigo takes both of Kisuke’s hands in his and looks at him with so much fondness that it still makes Kisuke’s heart skip a beat.

“What did you want to give me, Ichigo?” he asks softly.

His partner breathes deeply to settle his nerves. “Do you remember what I told you when I first asked you out?”

Of course he does. “‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,’” he dutifully parrots. “One of Eleanor Roosevelt’s most memorable quotes.”

“Exactly. I know that sometimes you still have nightmares about… the war, and that you think you don’t deserve me, or deserve to live a life out of the shadows, but remember that I’m the one who chose you. I will always choose you, Kisuke, no matter if it’s in this life or the next,” Ichigo says, pressing a kiss to each of Kisuke’s fingers. “You are the one I love, and I accept everything about you, good and bad. Even if you forget to eat when I tell you to, even if you sometimes vanish somewhere without telling me, even if you close yourself off and refuse to talk, even if you blame yourself for all the things that you think you could have changed, I still love you.”

Kisuke wants to say something, anything, but his throat is locked up tight with a swell of various emotions. His eyes are starting to feel suspiciously wet, because he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

Ichigo smiles like he knows what Kisuke’s thinking (and he probably does, given how long they’ve been together). He continues in a gentler tone, “Do you know what daffodils symbolize?”

“New beginnings,” Kisuke whispers.

His partner nods, then lets go of his hands. Kisuke feels the loss of warmth instantly. He wants to grab them back and hold them tight, his anchor to the reality of this life that he had never thought he’d be able to have.

Ichigo takes out a green velvet box from his pocket and gets down on one knee. The blonde thinks that this is probably an appropriate time to start crying tears of joy, so he does. Little trickles down his scarred cheeks, even as a helpless smile steals over his face. Ichigo smiles back, all traces of nervousness gone with the ocean breeze, and pops the question at last.

“Urahara Kisuke, will you marry me?”

  
Kisuke says yes.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment before you go~


End file.
